Everything Stolen

by Sophia Scarlet

  “No,” I tell her quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

  Those rich brown eyes regard me, waiting, and I hate it that this is so easy for her. She doesn’t feel the same awkwardness I do when we’re together but not together. It’s been more than a year, but the feeling hasn’t diminished. My heart aches as she blinks at me and tilts her head. I don’t know why I’m pretending to consider the invitation. When have I ever refused a chance to spend time with my family?

  “Sure. I bet you could use some more hands on deck anyway.”

  She smiles and leads me into the house. Dinner is simple, but fun. The children are messy but adorable. Phoebe and her girls leave afterward, but I stick around to help Levi get ready for bed. Sylvie makes a little bed for Nora on the floor in Levi’s room. The children are already drowsy by the time we’ve brushed their teeth and read them a story.

  When we close the door to their room, Sylvie walks me downstairs.

  “Thanks for the help. It wasn’t too bad.”

  “Nah, it was fun.”

  Taking her hand I offer a sincere smile.

  “I’m always here, sweetheart,” I tell her.

  She nods and looks away, squeezing my hand and letting it go.

  “Do you want some coffee or anything before you go?”

  “I’m good,” I say, my fingers scraping against my unshaved jawline.

  I turn to the door and I make it a few steps before I turn back. Those eyes peer into me again and I wonder if she sees how hard the waiting has gotten.

  “I saw a place today,” I tell her. “It was almost perfect. Levi really liked it. Any chance you’ll come see it?”

  My hope rises with the color in her cheeks. She swallows.

  “You don’t need me to choose your new place, Jeremy. Do what’s best for you. You’ve wanted to move on for awhile. You should have the life that you want.”

  She doesn’t break eye contact. My hopes crash and burn, just as they do every time I let myself think that she’s changed her mind. This time it hits me harder.

  “If that’s what you really think is best?”

  “I do,” she says, but this time she does look away and I know that I’m still not ready to give up.

  “Good night, Sylvie.”

  “Goodnight, Jeremy.”

  I lean in and kiss her cheek. I feel the faint tremble and I smile. Some things haven’t changed at all.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Allison Chambers smiles at the picture of Immy’s newborn.

  “They named him Phillip after his father,” I tell her.

  “That’s a lovely name,” Allison says. She sighs and I’m about to ask if something is wrong when Levi hops onto my lap.

  “Mommy, I need to tell you something,” he says, with his serious face.

  “I’m listening, sweet pea.”

  He giggles as he tries to get the words out and I wait, smiling at the spectacle.

  “Oscar barked at the mailman and he dropped the mail in the mulch. It was sooo funny!”

  Allison and I both laugh with him as he continues to giggle. There is something truly contagious about the laughter of children. I envy his ability to find joy in the most mundane parts of life. He runs off without waiting for my reply and Allison’s hand falls on mine.

  “You know that Charles and I think of you and Levi as our own blood, don’t you, Sylvie?”

  My eyes well and the involuntary smile that lifts my face answers her question.

  “I’ve never mentioned it before, because I never wanted you to think that we don’t love you and Levi. We do and we’re so glad that we’ve stayed close, but…”

  She pauses and a veil of shame shrouds her face.

  “…well, sometimes I wish that you’d gotten pregnant before we lost Silas. He told us that you were trying and we were so excited… but then I think that it was for the best. It would have been very hard for you to be carrying his child when you and Levi were grieving. As much as I would have liked to have a piece of him go on that way, well… Do you ever wish for another child?”

  I stare at her, stunned. I didn’t know that Silas had told his parents we’d talked about another child. I don’t want to tell her that I never had my IUD removed. Allison and Charles are the closest thing I’ve ever had to parents and for the first time, I wish that I could have given them a grandchild that looked a bit like their son.

  “I’m sorry,” I answer. “I don’t really see myself having more children.”

  The answer is reflexive and as it escapes, I’m not even sure it’s true. Maybe the reason I don’t see myself with more children is because I try never to look too far into the future. The future has let me down too many times. Letting the thought slip away, I return my attention to Allison. The sad smile she offers surprises me, but no more than her next words.

  “You should leave the door open, Sylvie. You’re so young and you’re such a wonderful mother. If your heart could make room for another love, for more family…”

  Tears well in her eyes and she tucks her salt and pepper hair behind her ear.

  “…I would be so happy for you,” she says. “I don’t think that Silas would have wanted you to be alone.”

  A lump forms in my throat as I grope for the words to tell her how grateful I am for all of her love and support. She and Charles had been exactly what anyone would hope parents could be since the day Silas introduced me to them. Having them in my life now makes the absence of my own parents feel a little less severe.

  “Weren’t you heading out, dear?” she asks before I can say anything. “Don’t let me keep you with my sentimental nonsense. I know how much you enjoy those walks.”

  I smile and wrap her into a tight hug. I still hike with my friends on the weekends, but the mid-week walks are just for me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Allison,” I whisper.

  The older woman chuckles.

  “Go along then,” she says. “I’ll be here with Levi. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  I’m upstairs, digging through my sock drawer, when I find Silas’ letter. As I consider it, a familiar ache returns to my chest. It’s been more than a year since the estate attorney handed it to me. The envelope remains unopened. Every time I contemplated opening it before, I felt too angry or too sad. Today, a new swell of courage rises from someplace deep inside me, someplace that was too wounded before.

  I sit on the bed, the bed I shared with Silas Chambers, and I open his last words to me.

  Sylvie,

  If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I know that it must have been sudden, because I wouldn’t have left you if there was anything I could do to prevent it. I haven’t always been as honest with you as I wanted to be. I wasn’t always the husband you deserved. And for that I am more regretful than you will ever know. But I loved you. I have never loved anything in this world the way that I loved you. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to fill our home with children and happiness. That wasn’t possible, but I am grateful for every moment we had together. I have left you everything I have. I hope that the resources I’ve left behind can help keep you and Levi safe and comfortable.

  My heart aches as I write this letter because I know the last thing you need is more loss, one more person who left you too soon. But I know you’ll recover, because that’s who you are. You’re a survivor. You’re resilient. You might feel like your heart is broken, but it’s not. You have so much love in your heart. It changed everything for me. You changed everything for me.

  Don’t mourn me too long, baby. I don’t want you to be alone.

  All my love. Always.

  Silas

  The letter falls to my lap, spotted with my tears. The last remnants of bitterness in my heart drift away as I cry for Silas. All of his best intentions and all of his devastating failings etch into my heart, smudged and bare. For the first time, I wonder if maybe I’m better for it.

 
I tuck the letter away before I finish getting dressed. I say goodbye to Allison and Levi and half an hour later, I’m walking my familiar path through the redwoods. The autumn air is crisp and perfumed with the earthy scent of the woods. I’ve gotten better at identifying the birdsongs. I hear an owl and a couple of jays as I trample the freshly fallen leaves. The quiet sounds of the forest soothe my nerves and calm my soul.

  Chapter Forty

  Jim grunts as he finishes his final set of lifts. The man is a powerhouse in more ways than his upper-body strength. I’m grateful that my pigheaded behavior last year didn’t prevent us from developing an enduring friendship. But I’m not here today to chat with a friend.

  “So you’ll consider it?” I ask.

  “I already turned you down, JB. I don’t want to work in your damn office building in the city. That traffic is terrible. I like my job at the bookstore just fine.”

  “I told you, you wouldn’t have to come into the city every day. You could work from anywhere where you could get online. I already have the rest of the team in place, but without you… I just don’t think the money is being allocated to the most useful places. I need your experience; I need your strength…”

  “You can get another cripple to run your charity,” he interrupts. “I don’t want to be your damn mascot.”

  “Jim, that’s not what you’d be. And this is about your abilities not your lack thereof. I remember how you sized me up last year. You helped me see things differently. You… you cut through all the crap. That’s what I need; I need you to do that with my charitable trust so everyone who is doling out my money can see things more clearly.”

  Unconvinced, he wipes down his workbench and tosses the towel into the hamper. He turns and stares at me with his brows arched. Sinking my hands into my front pockets, I smile.

  “Jim, I’m not going to beg, but I could really use you. Anyone can get stuck in a chair. All it takes is the right circumstances. But you know how to connect, how to help people like me get away from our own bullshit and see things that we might have missed before.”

  He exhales and takes a swig from his water bottle.

  “Just think about it?”

  Raising his palms he chuckles.

  “I’ll think about it, if you think about making some changes of your own.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The knowing look he gives me tells me he’s talking about Sylvie.

  “What do you want me to do, Jim? I love her. I’ve always loved her.”

  “So you’re just going to wait around forever. That can’t be healthy. A young guy like you, in the prime of your life. What about that realtor, Christie?”

  “Kelsey?”

  “Yeah, I know you want to move on to the next part of your life, but maybe it doesn’t have to be with Sylvie? Maybe you should give Kelsey a call and get to know her a bit? I mean have you had any interaction with a woman since you woke up last year?”

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I search for an answer that won’t lead to more ribbing. The truth is that I’ve been taking matters into my own hands, literally, for longer than I’d like to admit. Not a day goes by when the thought of her doesn’t stir me in ways that make it hard not to find some kind of release.

  “I went out with a woman a few months ago,” I tell him. “Pretty, kind—I bought her dinner and then took her home. I’ve never been the type of man to want to be with the closest warm body, Jim. After everything…”

  I scratch my jaw and shake my head.

  “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it. I imagine I could probably meet someone I liked enough, but I haven’t given up on her yet. I think she just needs a little more time. Maybe if I just hold out a little longer. I think she still loves me, too. She just got hurt so badly when her husband died and before that when I disappeared and…”

  “You’re a sap, JB.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I say with a shrug. “But it wouldn’t be right to be with someone else when all I’ll ever want is her.”

  Jim reaches up to punch me in the arm and I laugh.

  “Didn’t you have something you wanted to do today?” he asks. “Why don’t you get out of here and find that deep woods smell you’re always rambling about?”

  I nod and head for my car. The woods are a quick drive from the therapeutic center. The trees are quiet today. As I hike up the path, I hope that Phoebe was right about Sylvie’s walking schedule. She’d pulled me aside at the house a few days ago and given me reason to hope.

  * * *

  “Jeremy, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” she asked, bouncing baby Grace from side to side as she whispered. “When are you going to make a move?”

  Bemused, I raised my shoulders.

  “I’m making a move right now,” I said. “I’m here, helping, showing her I care, showing her that I’m in this with her. That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

  Tilting her head, she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said, “And that’s very sweet, but you have to get in there and fight, bro. Sylvie is a prize catch. And I know she says she doesn’t want anymore romance in her life, but she’s only twenty-eight for, crying out loud. It’s been a year since Silas died and she’s done the full mourning period. Now it’s time to kick it into high gear! Where’s the Jeremy that rushed in to blow up her marriage when he could barely walk? You think that guy would just sit around ‘being here’ until Sylvie woke up one day and decided that she’s ready for more?”

  The baby started to scream again and Phoebe added a rhythmic shushing sound to her bouncing.

  “Look… shshsh… she’s been walking in the woods on Wednesday afternoons… shshsh… before it gets dark… shshsh… maybe you could bump into her and see if you can’t … shshsh… make some sparks fly?”

  “You think that would work?” I asked too loudly and the baby fussed some more.

  Phoebe glared at me and mouthed the word ‘yes’ before she ran off to change Grace’s diaper.

  * * *

  So here I am, tromping through the forest hoping to find the mother of my child and ‘make some sparks fly.’ I’ve been walking for half an hour when I catch a glimpse of her. It’s barely more than a shadow moving between the trees, but I know her. I know the way she holds her lithe form, I know the curve of her neck and bounce of her warm chestnut curls. I recognize the dip of her lower back and sway of her hips. I move toward her and when a twig snaps under my boot, she looks in my direction.

  Her full lips turn up slightly when she sees me. That sparkle in her eyes gives me hope as we move closer. Her arms and legs are bare, revealing soft tawny skin that curves in all the right places. The top she wears cuts below her graceful collarbone. How many times have I fantasized about trailing a line of kisses along that neck?

  “What are you doing here?” she asks. “Aren’t you usually working this time of day?”

  “Yeah, but, you know how I love the woods in autumn. I left early. Besides my physical therapist thinks these long walks are good for me. She says that my endurance needs work.”

  Sylvie laughs and the sound of it echoes through the trees.

  “It’s been kind of quiet today,” she says. “You’re the first person I’ve seen.” Looking into the treetops she adds, “Even the birds seem quiet. Maybe they’ve already flown south?”

  I mold my hands together and blow out a song. The birds reply, chittering from every direction.

  “Nah. They’re here. They just need some incentive to come out and play.”

  I look at her, following a bead of sweat from her forehead as it dribbles around the side of her face and continues down her throat and between her breasts. I’ve never wanted to be a drop of sweat so badly and the thought makes me chuckle. She smiles at me.

  “Can I walk with you?”

  “Of course,” she says.

  We’ve walked for a few minutes in silence when she pauses at th
e exposed heartwood of a poached redwood. Her face twists in anguish as she flattens her palm against the tree’s inner trunk. She strokes the wood gently, as if she could comfort it with her touch.

  “I get that the economy is awful and that people are trying to get by, but… it’s just so cruel to carve out a burl like this. Don’t they know how much they’ve taken from the tree? It’s so exposed this way, it’s practically bleeding. Don’t they care that it might die?”

  Considering the mammoth tree and its stollen burl, I see so much more than a damaged sequoia.

  “Maybe they didn’t know how much the tree needed it,” I speculate. “Maybe they thought the tree would just move on or that it could just grow another. Maybe they didn’t realize that it was so essential, so vital, that without that lost piece, the tree would never be the same.”

  She meets my gaze and I study the way she sucks her plump bottom lip into her mouth. I don’t look away; my eyes reach deep, aiming for the place in her heart that I once called home. Her eyes well before she breaks the moment, stepping away from the tree and clearing her throat.

  “How’s Noah?”

  Taking a deep breath, I swallow. I never mention him around her or Levi. The subject is still so raw, but she asked.

  “He’s okay. He’s got another couple of years before he’s eligible for parole. I visited him last month. Sharon and Bruce have actually paid someone to go visit him once a week.”

  “I was thinking about visiting him, but I don’t know what I would say.”

  “I think he’d be really glad to see you. He asks about you and Levi. He, he thinks you hate him.”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head.

  She stops walking and turns to me.

  “I grieve him. I’m still so angry with him. Not just for Silas, I know that he never meant to hurt anyone but himself. But Noah lied to me for so long. He’s the reason…”

  She reaches up and her hand lands on my chest. My whole body constricts. She doesn’t finish the sentence. The way she looks into my eyes says everything. I don’t fault her for blaming Noah for the time we lost; I sometimes blame him too. But I’ve learned that blame is a waste of time, it forces us to look back when what I need, what keeps my heart pumping, is to look ahead.